


How to take care of your Human

by Darke_Eco_Freak



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Other, Slice of Life, everything else is T, they eat a rich pedo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 06:22:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16362542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darke_Eco_Freak/pseuds/Darke_Eco_Freak
Summary: An ongoing study by the Venom Symbiote, consisting of helping your human be less of a pussy, reminding him to eat and sleep, helping him socialise, and making a Hero.





	How to take care of your Human

They are old, older than the others on the comet, far older than Riot. Riot was a child, an unruly child with too much power and charisma for their own good. Venom is older than some stars, has seen the klyntar take whole solar systems, exhaust all resources, and move on. They were born on the homeworld, the origin, and is one of the oldest still out exploring the galaxy. They are far older than their host and, as such, know better than him. 

“What are you five?” Eddie hisses, dropping the colourful bag of chocolates, and Venom hisses. They don't care that they're in public, standing in the brightly lit candy aisle, there are more important things than that right now. 

“I am older than you can know!” they growl, reaching for the bag again, “and I _want_ the smarties.”

Eddie sighs, rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t throw the bag back again. Venom knows he’s worried about his teeth, cavities, as if Venom would let their bones rot away from sugars and acids. It’s almost insulting but they forgive their host, Eddie’s too new to know what Venom can do for their body, but he will learn because Venom has ample time to teach him.

There are no other klyntar here, none to fight for this perfect host, and Venom has all the time in the cosmos to teach his new, perfect host. Perfect Host. The very words make them shiver with pleasure, so rare, so precious. Riot would have taken Eddie if they had the chance, Agony and Phage wanted him, Venom knows they did, but their own hosts were too weak to move them. Their loss.

“A sweet tooth at your age could be expensive,” Mrs Chen tsks as she looks over their purchases. She doesn’t make Eddie put any back though and Venom smiles, they like this woman; she helped keep Eddie healthy before they came along and they’re glad now that they helped her back. The man they ate for her was tasty, a nice treat, and Eddie didn't even complain about it after. He's getting better at eating what they need, better at seeing other humans as food sources instead of people, and Venom couldn't be happier. 

Their Eddie is already learning, though he still grumbles about the taste lingering for days afterwards. If he would just eat as much chocolate and tots as Venom tells him then the taste wouldn't stay, though Venom likes the taste. They like licking the taste of copper from the corners of Eddie's mouth, tracing the edge of his human lips and laughing at the nonsense words he mumbles. About useless parasites and needing to get laid before he fucks the goop. 

“Don’t worry,” Eddie says, tugging Venom out of their thoughts and shoving a twix in his pocket. It's a blatant bribe, to keep Venom from thinking about the bloody kisses they've shared, and Venom takes it happily. They seep through the fabric of his pants and take their time absorbing the chocolate, wrapper and all, licking at Eddie's fingers before he yanks his hand away. 

"I know a pretty good dentist," he jokes with Ms Chen, gathering up his purchases. Venom knows Eddie's joking because Eddie doesn’t have the money for a dentist; a number flitters across his mind and it's too big for Eddie's bank account right now. Venom doesn't understand the concept of money, not exactly, hoarding resources is easy enough to grasp but assigning resource worth to flimsy bits of paper is strange to them. 

Venom remembers resource wars that tore klyntar generations apart, participated in plenty, but those were mostly fair. Each relied on their own strength and the strength of their hosts, no klyntar was able to hold as many resources as single humans could, it’s almost impressive. Not as much when their host suffers because of it but they’ll fix that like they’ve fixed everything else. They’ll keep their host happy and healthy at the expense of any resource hoarding human, gladly.

“Goodnight Eddie,” Mrs Chen calls and Eddie waves to her, Venom notices they didn’t pick up their change, but doesn’t ask. Eddie does things like that quite a lot, and there’s never a reason _why_. Or maybe the act is so routine there’s no conscious thought to sift through anymore, annoying.

They take the bike, because Eddie wants to keep a low profile and Venom mostly obliges. They don’t know who else at the Life foundation knew about them, if anyone did. Drake was good at tying up loose ends and Riot would’ve helped too, they liked leading surprise attacks on unsuspecting populations. Most likely there isn’t a single other person that knows there’s one last klyntar roaming this planet, but Eddie prefers caution. Venom appreciates that in their hosts.

They appreciate too much, it’s why everyone considered them a loser. Forming attachments to transient hosts was pathetic, disgusting even, what was the point of keeping one when there were millions of others? They were powerful, higher life forms and they lived to conquer and rule. Hosts were for their own benefit, they were _not_ for the benefit of the Host.

“These people are breaking the law; can we eat them?” they ask as another car cuts them off. They’re sure that’s an offence, not allowed, a regular human might have crashed. They can feel Eddie’s frustration too, bubbling away under their shared skin, he wants to yell at the driver, curse at them, but he holds their tongue and Venom sighs. Of course.

Eddie is a “ _nice guy_ ”, a loser, and won’t stick up for himself unless it’s on a case. Clearly Venom has their work cut out for them.

“Go fuck yourself!” Venom yells at the driver, wrenching a hand off the motorcycle to flip them off. Their face crumples into shock and embarrassment, Eddie is such a pushover, but they don’t stop driving and Eddie doesn’t hear the person yelling after them. Venom does of course, because they’re the superior life form, but they don’t share the noise with their Eddie, he doesn’t need to hear.

“Why did we do that?” Eddie moans, taking the wrong turn and Venom smirks. Their host is so easy to fluster, a little cursing and he’s flushed a delightful shade of pink. Other hosts never switched colours as easy as Eddie, other hosts were warriors, battle weary and emotionally dull. Eddie though, he’s full of emotions, overflowing with them, and Venom enjoys prompting all that they can.

“We need to be more assertive Eddie, we could have crashed,” they say, shrugging their shared shoulders, and idly pushing away another car that drifts too close for their liking. Eddie doesn’t even notice, too busy wondering what that person must think now, too busy fretting over the consequences. Doesn’t he realise? There _aren’t_ any consequences, not as long as Venom’s around.

* * *

Taking care of a human host is harder than caring for others, possibly the hardest, or maybe it’s only Eddie. Venom isn’t sure, they haven’t had enough human hosts to decide, but they think this might be an only Eddie thing.

The man is terrible at caring for himself. He nicks his cheeks while shaving, tiny pinpricks of pain that he ignores and mops up with sheets of tissue. Sometimes he forgets the tissue is there and is halfway to work before he remembers, then he flushes red hot while scrubbing his face. Always irritates the skin and Venom is the only thing stopping the cuts from reopening every time.

Venom wonders why their Eddie even bothers, they think he looks fine with a bushier beard, less of a wimp. They could heal the cuts immediately, or reinforce the delicate skin, or even stop the hair growing but they don’t think Eddie would appreciate that very much. Shaving is part of his routine, he does it half asleep, which is why he cuts himself, but routines are important to him, so Venom leaves it alone.

Sometimes Eddie gets too invested in his cases, he's a writer now, no more performing in front of cameras like a trained puppy but he spends just as much time out and on his feet as before. Venom can see it in his memories, the days spent chasing down leads and the threats that were practically routine. There are less threats now but just as much danger, and now there are hours spent sitting and writing. The written reports are boring, the fun things get edited out; the rapists they eat, the resource hoarders they track, the criminal gangs they break up and send crying to their mothers. Usually, Eddie writes his bland reports but leaves his phone for Venom to use, they can browse the internet at their leisure while Eddie works.

And works, and works. He misses meals, stays up too late, forgets to drink water, and Venom always sighs as they take care of their loser human. They peel away from their host body, reaching into the tiny kitchen with their true, sinuous form, and drag out boxes of dead food from the fridge. Placing a greasy box in front of their Eddie is usually enough to make the man eat it, he can type with one hand, and when Venom feels generous, will transcribe whatever directed thoughts Eddie cares to send.

The no sleep takes longer to solve because, at first, they don’t realise it’s an issue. Klyntar don’t “ _sleep_ ”, they rest as all living things do, but they don’t shut down all higher functioning and lay helpless for hours. Eddie working through the night until the sun rises isn’t strange to them, they think it’s a good thing they’re around to straighten out his hunched spine, but otherwise they don’t pay much attention.

When the sun rises, they go through their morning routines and remind Eddie to water their dead plant, and grab their keys, and don’t forget the laptop. They think it’s strange that Eddie forgets those things, but he can be absentminded sometimes, any human can be as far as they’ve seen. They start to notice things are wrong on the way to work, on the motorcycle; Eddie doesn't break when he should, he takes the corners sloppy, and Venom has to stop them in front the building so they don't crash into the glass doors. 

Even Eddie's thoughts are slurred and slow, dragging at the edges, but there's nothing wrong with him. No infection, no malfunctioning organs, he's healthy but he still almost walks into the wrong elevator. So, they take over and take him up to the boss, simmering under the surface, waiting for the chance to ask what’s going on. They would ask immediately but they have a deal now, no speaking where people can record them, too dangerous, and they know this entire building is bugged. Truly it’s a wonder they weren’t caught the first time they broke in. Dumb luck most likely.

The meeting goes the same as all the others, the boss tells Eddie he needs to be less controversial, Eddie says he will be, Venom knows they won’t. Before Drake, Eddie had the protection of the press and his audience, if he ever went missing he could rely on the story coming out. After Drake, he lost everything, couldn’t afford to live as dangerously as before, now, they can do whatever they want.

Eddie can chase whatever lead he wants because they are Venom, and they are powerful. If it loses them this job, then they’ll find something else that pays the money they need to survive in this society. Though, Venom’s suggested stealing more than once, from the resource hoarders, billionaires? Yes, _billionaires_ , they have so much, they won’t miss the little Eddie needs for his pitiful rent and food. Eddie always says no and distracts them with chocolate, or tv, or with the promise of live meat. 

The meeting finishes with the boss warning them one last time and being dismissed after another lie. Venom waits for Eddie to get up and leave, they never linger after these meetings, but he doesn’t. He’s slouched in the chair, relaxed into it, and his heartrate is slower than it should be. Venom throws a wordless question, a mental ???, and gets a muted reply, something like five more minutes.

Their boss is staring at them though, concerned, and Venom knows he'll ask what's wrong, or try to touch, so they take over again. They stay quiet, as per the deal, while Eddie blinks himself back to the world. Everything is fuzzy and soft through his eyes, slower too, but Venom keeps their words to themself, for now. Eddie strolls through the lobby, waves at his friend, and squints in the bright light of morning. There's already a crowd out front, bodies brushing past each other, and Eddie's staring into the crowd that looks like blobs to him. 

There’s a question buzzing in his brain, a confused slur of thoughts, and Venom waits for the question to be asked. They’re still in public but less public now, they can speak, people will simply think Eddie’s muttering to himself, or insane. Personally, Venom prefers the insane option, less people bother them then, don’t look so they don’t see the squirming under tight clothes, and don’t notice the body under the clothes either. They don't like when others look at their Eddie like he's something to have, he's taken, permanently. 

The question never solidifies though, and Eddie starts walking again, leaving their bike parked on the pavement. There’s a café across the street, it serves delicious chocolate drinks and if Eddie smiles his “ _charmer of a smile_ ”, the person behind the counter will add more caffeine than the café usually allows. Eddie says he needs the caffeine to function, Venom knows that’s not true but they like the taste of coffee and chocolate mixing on their tongue.

Humans have a more developed palette than other hosts they’ve had, humans taste salty, sweet, spicy, bitter, savoury, even metals under the right circumstances. Venom has no problem with Eddie charming the café worker, maybe a problem with him using himself as a resource, but they can deal with that. If it means chocolate, then they can handle a substantial amount.

There’s a convenient crosswalk right there, and a crowd to join, but the lights don’t register with Eddie. He doesn’t stop at the edge of the pavement, he keeps walking, and Venom snatches back control as a taxi clips their outstretched foot. The sickening crack and crunch of bone judders along their leg, pain blazing across nerves for a few live wire seconds before Venom to break the connections.

Eddie yelps, like a kicked dog, and falls backwards, lands hard on their ass with a thump. He's staring wide eyed at their leg, where the slick, blood-wet edge of their shin is glistening in the morning light and their stomach churns, sick. Venom growls as they force the protruding bone back under the skin and raids calcium deposits to fill the cracks and smooth the break. They’re perfectly fine by the time Eddie jerks to their feet and the car skids to a stop, a man jumping out, coming to them. Eddie takes a shaky breath, eyes wild, heart beating hard against their ribcage, but he sees the cab driver and runs without a word.

There’s no hesitation, no waiting to test his previously broken leg, and it’s the only thing that pleases Venom about all this. Eddie trusts them, even if he is an idiot. The crowd around them murmurs, whispers amongst itself as they run through it, shoving and pushing their way as they run faster than a regular human should but they don't care. Eddie gets them away from the scene but Venom directs their steps to an alley, one that’s shadowed even in the bright of day, and they duck behind a dumpster while their heart jumps into their throat.

One thing Venom’s realised about their host, is that Eddie is very easily panicked. His brain is always soaked in adrenaline, thrumming with it, even when they’re safe in their own home. Skimming through memories tells them that Eddie is “ _anxious_ ”, whatever that means, as far as they understand, it’s an increased panic response to a wide range of stimuli.

So why the fuck did they just walk into oncoming traffic? Where was the panic response then?

 “What was **_that_** , Eddie?” they growl, consuming the lactic acid building in their muscles and forming in front Eddie's panicked face. Speaking like this is easier, when Eddie can see their displeased snarl and narrowed eyes, when he can look away like a naughty child.  

“I— _shit_ , guess I’m just tired?” he wheezes, clutching at his chest, and Venom growls. Tired? He was _tired_? There was no lactic acid build up, no tension in the muscles, they’re not even sore, how can Eddie be tired?

“We’re at peak health,” they argue, smoothing a tentacle along Eddie’s bowed spine, soothing they suppose? There’s so much to learn about this human of theirs, Eddie responds better to contact, prefers kindness. Venom can provide physical comfort but they are not kind; Eddie is a pussy and they’ll remind him of that as often as possible. How else will their host learn to overcome all of his fears?

“No, it’s uh, we didn’t sleep last night. We’ve been chasing down leads, not sleeping, I’m exhausted,” Eddie groans, scrubbing at their face, pressing knuckles to their shut eyes. And now that they know to look for it, they see the dulled reflexes and bland shine of irritation colouring all of Eddie’s thoughts for what they are.

He’s…grumpy, like a child, because he hasn’t _slept_. Venom considers that, chews on the information while Eddie catches his breath and wakes himself up. Sleep, resting inert while higher functions cease? Venom can’t understand it, what an inefficient evolutionary adaptation for a persistence predator. How would they be ready for danger if they were asleep? What happened in cases of emergency? 

Eddie's breathing evens out and his heartrate drops, he calms enough to drop his tensed shoulder and Venom swoops close, stares into blood shot eyes and sees their construct reflected back. Maybe panic responses were useful back before humans domesticated themselves, panic would rouse them from their sleep and wake them up. Now, there's no need, in their relatively safe society, they don't have traditional dangers to respond to anymore.

Sleep is deeper and calmer now, but how didn't they realise? They've been bonded to Eddie for a month now, lurked in his body and listened to his thoughts, how could they not know about sleep? The traffic was just as much Venom's fault as it was Eddie's, it really was _their_ fault. 

“Then sleep. No more lead chasing today, we’re going home, and you will **_sleep_** ,” they say, pulling their body up, away from the overfull dumpster. Eddie will sleep, since he has to apparently, and Venom will…browse the net. Google is useful, they’ll start there and learn as much as possible about these strange human creatures. They refuse to let something like this slip past them again, they can’t let their body suffer, and they can’t let Eddie hurt.

He is their perfect host, he deserves the best. Venom will give him the best.

* * *

Family units are another strange earthly thing, not something Venom doesn’t understand, but something that’s still entirely unfamiliar. Klyntar don’t stay together in family groups, they form clans or pair off, but they don’t live together based on genetic relationships. Klyntar don’t reproduce the way humans do, there’s no need for two of them to create a clutch, and offspring don’t usually stay with progenitors.

Venom themself has had offspring before, a fair dozen, and all of them are scattered through the cosmos, each on their own mission of galactic domination. Riot was, by Earth terms, the middle offspring. If they were human, Riot should have respected them, or at least not been such a little bastard, but they aren’t human and klyntar didn’t work that way.

Just because they don’t though, doesn’t mean Venom can’t learn. They watch shows on Eddie’s laptop, when he’s asleep, and they read articles about human socialisation and relationship dynamics. They know that parents care for offspring well into adulthood, sometimes the offspring cared for the elderly parents in return, other times the parents got put in care facilities. The idea of caring for the elderly isn’t quite so foreign, in clans, weaker members were cared for until they were strong again. Or, if they could not be healed, they were killed mercifully, as painlessly as possible.

In all of their research though, Venom cannot understand the idea of familial abuse. These humans put so much effort into creating their family groups, so many resources poured into them, then only to abuse the individuals? Seems like a waste of resources to them. Particularly in the case of offspring, human reproduction is more involved than klyntar, a more labour-intensive process. Venom cannot understand the point of it, or why members stay within abusive family groups, even after reading as many articles as they can find on it.

Humans are such strange, alien creatures.

“Eddie,” they grumble, swatting at his face with a trendil. He said a nap, twenty, thirty minutes at most. Venom has been generous and given him a whole five extra, pre-emptively taking care of the “ _just five more minutes_ ” they know Eddie will mumble.

They understand the need for sleep now, they can’t have Eddie walking off a bridge next time, but sometimes they think he sleeps far too much. Articles online tell them eight to nine hours are sufficient for adult humans, other articles say broken up sleep cycles with mild work in between are better. There’s so much individual variation between this species it’s hard to keep up but Venom is doing their best, and Eddie is seemingly much healthier for it.

“Eddie,” they say again, poking his cheek, shaking his shoulder, but he’s fallen deep into REM sleep and into a dream. They can see the flicker of images playing across their eyes, but those are too abstract to make sense of, they don’t understand dreams either but it’s a lesser curiosity. Humans sleep, sometimes they dream, the end.

Considering the light work Eddie has left, and that Venom was there when the woman gave her interview, Venom can finish the report Eddie was working on. They don’t understand why it made Eddie so tired, enough to give up and just nod off right there, the laptop is still on their lap. Well, whatever, Venom will finish it, let Eddie finish his dreams, then maybe they can bargain for a jumbo bag of chocolate later.

The woman, her name escapes them because they don’t care, was the daughter of some businessman with shady business dealings. Eddie had tracked her down for her views on her estranged father, another side to the cold businessman or something along those lines. Eddie wanted more proof that the man was terrible, as if the poor work practice and underhanded dealings weren’t enough, which they _weren’t_. So, this woman.

She was a strange one, cursing at Eddie then deflating into a surly lump. She wanted nothing to do with her father, but she had this to say about the man, “ _Bastard. Fucking controlling ass bastard!_ ”. Venom had wanted to dangle her off a building until she talked, Eddie had been patient, slowly getting her to explain what she meant by the things she said. He was good at that, their Eddie, making people like him, making them want to talk to him.

The woman had told Eddie about the abuse, refusing to meet his eyes, looking everywhere but his face, but she hadn’t stopped. She’d shown him a scar on her arm, a burn, and she told him about the hushed-up restraining order her mother had taken out on her father. Of course, in the grand scheme of things, a single abused daughter was nothing compared to the hundreds fucked over, but it was something. Eddie was building a case and this daughter was a piece of the puzzle.

Venom absently strokes their human’s face while they type, reading what Eddie’s already written though they remember it perfectly. Finishing the piece with a question seems par the course for these things, a rhetorical, open-ended question to get people thinking. They prefer to be more straight forward, state what they mean outright and without preamble, but humans prefer a little more.

They save the document after they finish, upload it to Eddie’s email and makes a copy for the flashdrive. They’ve seen him near tears after his laptop randomly updated and didn’t save the document he’d been working on for hours. That had been an…interesting night. So many emotions rushing through their human, disbelief, shock, anger, sadness, rage, _rage, **rage**_.

Eddie had run out into the street, then up onto rooftops, and kept running until they found a man holding a gun to a girl’s neck. They ate that man. Ripped off his arm first, the one with the gun, and the spray of blood had been lovely. Then the other arm, taking a bite out of it, next the legs, both at the same time with the same popping crunch. And finally, when the man had screamed himself unconscious, they ate the head, cracking his skull like a candy shell and slurping down the soft brains inside.

The girl had run, gasping and shrieking, but she was alive, and their meal gave Eddie the chance to calm down. The rest of that night was spent between Venom piecing together the half remembered memories of the report and keeping Eddie awake enough to rewrite the whole thing. Together they got the report done, Venom slumped across Eddie's shoulders, peppering his neck with kisses and murmuring encouragement when he faltered. Their Eddie responded best to positive reinforcement, physical comfort, and plenty of coffee to power through the last few paragraphs before he could send it to his editor then crash for the day. 

After that, Venom made sure to back up all of Eddie’s work when he forgot, or when he remembered, they’d take every opportunity to hunt but never at the expense of their Eddie’s emotions. They wanted him happy.

“Whaa?” Eddie groans, voice rough, thoughts garbled. He sits up, shoving against the cushions on the way up, and Venom rests on their Eddie’s thigh. From the low angle, he’s the furthest from intimidating Venom’s ever seen.

The late afternoon light spills through the blinds and slants across Eddie’s face, catches on the rough stubble creeping along his jaw and turns them golden. Golden like something rare and special but golden like something weak and soft too. Humans are weak and soft, so easy to break but easy to put back together. Their Eddie is a strong host, that’s all that matters, he doesn’t need to be a strong fighter.

“You finished my article?” Eddie asks, frowning as he reads through the document. Venom notices that he doesn’t change anything, only reads, and preens to themself. They’re getting better at all these human things, and better at Eddie’s job. They don’t particularly like the investigative work, it’s boring, but they like being able to help Eddie, protect him when he rushes headlong into dangerous cases.

Their Eddie fears heights and awkward situations but will badger powerful, resource hoarders and politicians without a second thought. He truly is something unique.

“Thank you,” Eddie mumbles but Venom can feel the genuine gratitude seeping into his thoughts, and squirms happily. Their Eddie is pleased, touched, he’s thinking about how much he likes getting help and how easy it is to rely on Venom for the little things. He’s thinking about the case and families, how blood families could be shit and not worth the effort but found families were so much better.

And Venom realises, they’ve never seen any signs of Eddie’s family. He must have one, humans had families, they were born into them most of the time. Where was Eddie’s?

“Have I fed you sushi yet? There’s a great sushi fifteen minutes from here, should be empty now too,” Eddie’s saying, saving his document again, and sending it to their boss. Venom curls around his neck, and shifts into something closer to a cloth texture, they’re a scarf.

“We want to try sushi, raw fish is good,” they purr, catching the images from their Eddie’s thoughts and licking their lips at the thought. Good, fresh meat is good, the best, they can’t wait to have some. They can ask about Eddie’s family later, after they eat, and after they keep their Eddie from running face first into the wall.

* * *

Sometimes they go to dinner with Annie and Dan. Annie likes to keep Eddie out of his head, especially after the incident and his heartfelt apology, they are friends now. Venom has tried to convince their host that Annie would be good for them, Dan is nothing, they have _history_ on their side. History and a shared extra-terrestrial experience to bond over, they’re sure that counts for more than whatever Dan could have.

Eddie has shot them down every time though, he’s happy without Annie, even if he hurts over her sometimes. Eddie says he doesn’t need anyone but Venom and that’s always nice to hear, it’s nice to be wanted by a host for more than what they can give. Eddie likes Venom for Venom, because they are a loser, because they are an asshole, because they are Venom. It is very nice.

“So Eddie, what’s it like being out there, chasing down leads?” Dan asks on their chosen meet-up night. They’re at a nice restaurant, one that serves sushi, and other non-meat meats, Venom still doesn’t know how humans could take plants and turn them into a viable meat substitute. The why escapes them but that’s what Dan is eating, something with noodles and fake meat, strange.

“Oh y’know, same old same old. Finding people, asking em questions, nothing crazy,” Eddie deflects while Venom snorts. Of course, same old same old. No murder in sight, no threats, no amputations, definitely no drug rings getting busted, broken up, and cannibalised in the space of hours. Nothing _interesting_.

Dan is a good man, willing to help, but he’s also oblivious as all fuck. He accepts Eddie’s non-answer while Annie squints at them, doesn’t say anything, but she squints all the same. She knows something’s up, that Eddie isn’t telling them the truth about things, but she doesn’t push for more. She’s a lawyer, a good one from what they’ve seen, she knows suspicion isn’t worth a damn in court and she knows plausible deniability is the best thing for this situation.

If she suspects Venom is still around, she keeps it to herself. She would be an excellent mate, if Eddie would have her, but he doesn’t so she will stay an excellent friend instead.

“And uh how’s the hospital? Saved any interesting lives?” Eddie asks, politely, while Venom snorts louder. Their Eddie is bad at making conversation, good at making people like him but bad at small talk, he gets frazzled, self-conscious. Mostly with Dan, he doesn’t know how to react to this man, Dan has Annie but Dan also helped him, so confusing

Venom idly considers taking Dan for a mate, he is a good man, and he doesn’t mind Eddie’s flustered attempts at conversation. He’s patient and wants to help, Eddie needs patience, someone who can look past some of his selfishness and bluster. Annie could, maybe Dan can. Though, they do seem better off together than with anyone else, so Venom lets the thought drop before Eddie picks up on it and chokes on his alcohol.

“Consultations, a few surgeries, nothing big in my section but morgue’s been having some weird cases,” Dan tells then, leaning in close as though sharing a secret. He probably is, there is an odd amount of secrecy in all these human organizations, public, government and private alike.

Eddie perks up and leans in too, hungry for another case, any little titbit he can find. He wants another Carlton Drake, someone that can challenge them, or even threaten them, he’s restless in their skin. Venom considers that their Eddie might be something of an adrenaline junkie and laughs under their skin, of course he is.

“We’ve been getting bodies from all over the city, way more than usual, and they’re all missing parts,” Dan says, glancing between Annie and Eddie, and Venom grins sharp and smug. That’s _them_ , their work.

“Arms, legs, heads, one body was just a _torso_ they found in the _dumpster_ ,” Dan mutters, dropping his chin in his hand, and Eddie’s breath catches in their throat. All those people were evil, bad, threatening people at gunpoint, beating down others for the gangs, none of them were good.

Oh but he’s not worried about that, he’s worried that Dan figured them out. Their heartrate is speeding up and a cold sweat breaks out across their neck, Eddie’s anxious and their body is responding. Overactive threat response. Venom huffs as they absorb the adrenaline making a beeline for their bloodstream and absorbs the sweat too. They’re in a nice restaurant and Eddie is wearing a nice shirt, pit stains will make him sad and anxious and worried about what people thought of him. Venom thinks anyone who judges their Eddie can get fucked but Eddie never thinks of it like that, he cares too much. 

“Y-you don’t say, any ideas?” Eddie asks but it’s awkward and stilted and Venom is half tempted to take over. They could end the night early, make up an excuse and leave, get Eddie away before he says something he shouldn’t. They don’t though, because Eddie is a big boy, he knows how to take care of himself, most of the time.

Instead, they sneak a tendril onto the table and swipe piece of Dan’s non-meat meat. Eddie notices, Dan does not, and Venom munches the vegetables pretending to be meat, smiling at their host. The plant isn’t bad, dead and bland, but not bad. There’s even trace amounts of the chemical they need, not as much as tots or chocolate, but this is more heavily processed, the raw plant would have more.

“Serial killer maybe? Gang? No one’s taking any responsibility yet,” Dan shrugs. He shrugs, and Eddie relaxes back into his seat, throat tight. Dan doesn’t suspect them, of course he doesn’t, who **_would_**? The only people to know about the klyntar are dead, so are most of the klyntar, there’s no reason to think Eddie was still bonded to one. There was also no reason to think Eddie was the one going on killing sprees across the city, none whatsoever, they made sure.

The rest of the meal goes simpler, no more panic swimming in their guts and slashing at their heart. Eddie relaxes into the company of their friends, laughing at Dan’s jokes, smiling at Annie, every so often, he slips a piece of sushi to Venom even though they taste when Eddie eats and takes from their shared stomach. It's a nice thought, nice sentiment, it's all very nice.

The low-level chatter of the restaurant is pleasant, a good white noise, and if they want, they can listen on those conversations instead of this one. There’s a couple celebrating an anniversary behind them, a mother congratulating her daughter for a graduation a seat over, a group of office workers getting shitfaced in the corner. It’s all very vibrant and alive in ways Venom never experienced before.

These lives are mundane compared to their own, these people aren’t special, they’re just people, but they’re people living their lives. Taking the time to share a meal and socialise, taking the time to enjoy themselves, Venom thinks they like this. They think they need to convince Eddie to go out some more, be around people, he clearly enjoys it and so do they.

“Good night Eddie,” Annie says as they all get up, plates empty, bellies mostly full. Venom curls around Eddie’s spine, fits into the spaces between the vertebrae, and soothes the slight ache of muscles there. They stayed longer than they meant to, they have a report to write, but Eddie doesn’t mind, he likes the company.

“Aren’t I good enough for you, Eddie?” Venom teases as they wander out into the dew cool night. Annie and Dan get into their car, offering them a lift but Eddie refuses, they prefer to walk even if the walk is twenty minutes long.

“You know what I mean,” he mumbles into his collar, but they can feel the smile on their host’s lips and smiles, content. Of course they know what he means, he is their perfect host.

* * *

Between day and night, Venom much prefers the night. The daytime is hot, humid and stuffy, they do not like it. The night time is cooler, almost chilled, and they can move through darkness much easier than through shadows. Their form is big, bulky, but they’re quick, Venom likes this form best.

They are a bruiser, a brawler, raw power, but they’re quick. Very quick. Quicker than the bullets from a man’s gun, faster than the downward slash of a killer’s knife.

“Pitiful,” Venom croons, watching the woman’s knife sink hilt-deep into their own forearm instead of the boy’s face. The boy can’t be older than thirteen and he’s sickly pale, big dark eyes staring wide at them. Eddie wants to soothe the boy, Venom tells him not yet, the woman first.

“What the fuck are you?” she shrieks, scringing away from them, back against the wall. So different to the wretch boxing in the boy, so very different without her knife poised to slash his cheek.

Eddie takes in the scruffy clothes and dirt under her nails and says no killing. This woman isn’t a killer, she’s desperate but not a killer, so no eating her. Venom huffs, rocks back on their heels, but lets the woman scream and shriek her way down the wall, slithering and slipping out of the alley on her knees.

They listen to her pelt down the street, panting for breath and screaming curses into the night. Then, they turn to the boy still standing there. Maybe he’s younger than thirteen, his cheeks are still round with baby fat and there’s a tremble to lips that reminds Eddie of children on playgrounds. The boy is ready to cry.

“We won’t hurt you,” Venom says, flattening the growl in their words as much as possible, hunching down on all fours to be less intimidating. Eddie knows how to deal with children, Venom does not, but they can’t reveal Eddie now. If anyone found out, Eddie would be in danger, and Venom will not allow that.

“Do you have somewhere to go?” they ask when the boy only stares. Eddie thinks he might be in shock and Venom agrees, the child isn’t saying a word, only staring wild-eyed in an almost unsettling way. The child reminds them of Eddie through Maria’s eyes, when he tried to save her by breaking the glass then got attacked for his efforts.

The thought doesn’t sit well in their stomach, equating Eddie with this scared child, so they push it away and focus on this. They are not a hero, their proclivity for human flesh probably didn’t allow for heroism, but this child needs _someone_.

“We will take you somewhere, a safe place,” they add when the boy still says nothing. Odd, usually the screaming starts when people see the teeth, big sharp chompers all the better to eat them with. This boy though, nothing, it’s refreshing.

Eddie tells them to go slow, ease into it Ven, the kid might freak out, so they listen. Together, they get the child into their arms, still staring, still no words, and use a fire escape to get to the rooftops again. Eddie knows where all the shelters are, which ones will be open now and which ones will open for a child. Venom knows this city back to front now, after running around as much as they have, they have it all stamped into their memories.

The child stays silent as they run to the shelter in Eddie’s head, the one with the councillor that’s good with kids. Venom doesn’t know what to think of most human inventions, infomercials in particular, but they will admit “ _councillors_ ” are a good invention. Minds are easy things to break, they would know, so councillors serve an important role in keeping their community healthy. Venom can respect that.

The night around them is as quiet as this city gets, the lower murmur of humanity is muted, windows dark and roads empty. Every so often cars fly by, bringing their contained chaos and taking it just as quick. They’re alone in the night, except for the boy, Eddie doesn’t think he can speak, he would’ve said something if he could. Either that or the boy thinks this is all a dream, which is plausible, how often do monsters with teeth longer than your forearm appear to **_save_** you? 

Leaping across streets, feeling the cool wind whipping across their face is pleasant, feeling their muscles stretch and pull is good. Refreshing. They didn’t get to feed tonight but they saved a child. Klyntar offspring are deadly, more than capable of protecting themselves, but human young are fragile, delicate. They need care and protection, and Venom feels something like contentment settle warm and good in their stomach. They saved this boy, protected him, and it feels good. 

“Here, these people will take care of you,” they growl, climbing down to the street instead of jumping. For the child who can’t take the shock, and not because Eddie is begging not to jump, still so squeamish. 

The shelter windows are dark, but the door is still open, and they can hear staff talking quietly inside. They boy will be fine here, Eddie knows these people.

“Go on,” they hiss, nudging the boy. They don’t understand why he doesn’t go, why he stays close to a monster, Eddie says it might be a panic response. Humans have so many of those and Venom is still learning, they can’t read everything on the internet after all, but this is why they have Eddie.

 _‘Sometimes humans cling to things that make them feel safe, even if it’s a eight foot monster with big teeth_ ,’ Eddie tells them while Venom watches the boy. They wouldn’t call a near death experience traumatic, a possible knifing doesn’t always result in death either, but humans are fragile and their children even more so.

The crouch down, get small again, pulling in their bulky mass until they’re closer to human size, more like a thin skin of black over Eddie’s body. This small and the heat of Eddie’s body is seeping through them, pulsing against them, and the boy’s shoulders drop ever so slightly. They didn’t even realise his shoulders were tensed but now they aren’t, and the tremor is gone too. Children are strange.

“You took a knife for me,” the boy whispers and Venom cocks their head. No they didn’t, the knife didn’t pierce them, only sank into their mass, Eddie was fine, there was no blood.

“Thank you,” the boy says before he runs to the shelter. Strange.

Venom scales the building, being careful not to destroy the bricks as they go and stops halfway up to watch. The boy bangs on the door until a staff member opens it, shocked that a child would be out so late and where did he come from? The woman shoos the boy inside, to get something to eat and to tell his story, and she doesn’t look around for whoever might be out there. Smart.

They don’t need the fire escape to get back onto the rooftops and they don’t need Eddie telling them they did a good job to know it. They’re getting better at judging good people from bad, better at humanity, and better at keeping Eddie happy. Saving people makes him happy, he’s naturally a helper even if he doesn’t always make the best choices.

Reporting on bad people helps quell the need deep in his gut but coming out there and protecting children is so much better. Venom is glad they can do this for him, they like helping too though it might be a residual urge from their bond, they don’t mind.

They also don’t mind the suggestion of seafood out in the bay, sushi is good but they like live meat too and Eddie doesn’t mind killing fish. Fish are stupid and the ones out in the bay aren’t pretty and sweet like the ones in petsmart tanks. Their Eddie would probably let them crack a few skulls open and slurp up the insides without too much whining, but they don’t suggest it.

They think about it, the rush of the kill, the crunch of bone between their teeth, but they don’t act on it. Instead, they orient themselves toward the bay and take off in that direction. No one sees them go, no one saw them come.

* * *

Sometimes, when they go out hunting, Venom does not take over. They do not cover their host in their mass and go scaling the highest building they can find. Sometimes, all they do is pretend to be Eddie’s very nice leather jacket and very nice, very tight black shirt. Eddie likes the spared expense, Venom likes being visible and there, they both win.

Tonight is a “ _pretend to be clothes_ ” night, even though they’re sneaking into a posh penthouse via the side of the building. Can’t be caught, can’t be seen. Eddie takes the stairwell instead of the elevator and Venom listens for the tell-tale hum of cameras as they make their way up-up into this building that could house hundreds.

“Another wealth hoarder,” Venom says when they pass the tenth floor, the stories flying by as their Eddie runs.

“And a pedo,” Eddie adds, jumping straight for the twelfth floor. These winding, spiralling stairs are a death trap, a bottleneck waiting to happen, but the railings are good handholds. Eddie uses them to springboard, one to the next to the next, when climbing stairs gets monotonous. They have thirty-six storeys to go after all, can’t have the climb bore them to tears before they get there.

This man they’re after is a coincidence, Eddie was working an entirely different case on a ring of weapon smugglers when they came across the illegal sex traffickers. Children no older than fifteen being brought through the port then sold off to people who would carry them away to be sold again. So far, they’ve eaten the traffickers and gotten the police involved to deal with the victims, but they’re after a buyer now.

A rich bastard, Silas Jackson, with vague ties to the same pharmaceutical companies as Drake. The name still left a bad taste in their mouth but not for long, Eddie promised a treat tonight and they’ll wash the bad taste away with the wealth hoarder’s blood.

This building has excellent security, they saw some of them earlier while they were scoping out the scene, men with guns and walkie-talkies and panic buttons, but they’re not good enough to keep out Venom. Eddie scales the wall and swings them up onto another floor, freezing still when they hear someone walking around out in the corridor.

Quiet-quiet, they sneak up the stairs, listening hard to the person walking down the corridor and stopping by the elevator. The elevator comes up while Eddie’s heart beats faster in their chest, but the person only gets on and doesn’t suspect a thing. Eddie starts running again, relief running silver across his brain and along Venom’s tongue.

Nothing else stops them when they get to the tip-top, no guards, no residents, and Eddie’s heart is steady as they ease through the access door. They shut it quietly and step out into the corridor, turning away from the open hall and toward the penthouse door. They don’t have anything on them, no lockpicks or skeleton keys, but they don’t need those things anymore.

They turn the handle of the door until it gives under their hand. They know the security system’s probably been alerted but they’ll be gone before anyone can get up to check on that. They slink into Jackson’s apartment with all of Eddie’s reporter grace and Venom’s predator prowl.

Eddie looked up this luxury condo before they cased it, whistled low at the 3.5 million dollar price tag, and clicked through realtor pictures but pictures are nothing compared to the real thing. The view through the uncovered windows is spectacular, worth every penny of the millions spent for it; the entirety of downtown lit up and laid out right there but so far away, glowing soft and hazy. Their city looks peaceful from this angle, everything does if they’re far enough away, planets, people.

There’s marble gleaming dully from the light pollution and soft mood lights left on, even this late, and in the middle of this first room there’s a…

“Piano,” Eddie whispers, like the breath’s punched out of their lungs, forced past their lips. Jackson isn’t top priority anymore, the grand piano standing by the window is, and Eddie’s walking them over to it.

His head’s full of memories, images of a woman, no a girl, older than Eddie but still a child. Her sitting at a piano, not as nice as this one, but still nice. The girl, blond, cute, playing melodies for Eddie, smiling at him. She’s not very good but she’s not bad, she’s fine but Eddie thinks she’s the best in the world.

“Mary used to play piano,” Eddie mumbles, lifting the cover so he can run his fingers over the keys. They’re smooth, and cold, but the ones in his memories are warm from his…sister’s hands. Mary Brock, Eddie’s older sister, he hasn’t seen her in years.

“I fucked up there too,” Eddie explains with a shrug and a sigh, a deep, heavy thing, but Venom does not ask. Later, if they remember, but not now. Now they’re hunting.

“Yeah, we’re hunting,” Eddie says with a smile this time, one that’s pointed and sharp, and licks their lips with a tongue too long to hold in their mouth. They turn from the piano and stalk further into Jackson’s apartment, sniffing him out, the scent of sweat and musk leading them.

There are windows everywhere in this expensive penthouse, looking out over their city, and they stand in front of the one in Jackson’s bedroom. The room is dark but Eddie blinks and Venom covers his eyes in a film that lets him see, _them_ see. See this bastard’s sleep lax face, so unaware of everything, it’s almost too easy but they’ll take easy.

Eddie’s hands are _their_ hands are covered in black and tipped with claws. One decisive slash severs head from body, blood squelching between their fingers, vertebrae snapping under their claws. Venom purrs happily when arterial spray splatters their face and laps it up with their tongue, licking the drops away from their cheek, their lips.  

They have five minutes, maximum, but they have time enough to break open the body, dig their claws in deep and force open the ribcage. Eddie hunches down over the body, letting Venom take over and show him the best parts, letting Venom's taste bleed into his own. The liver is juicy so they pluck that out, slicing it out of the meat, and tearing into it with their fangs, sighing happily at the burst of flavour spilling into their mouth. Chew-chew-swallow, bite-bite-gulp until the whole liver's gone, what's next? Kidneys. 

Those are salty-sour...tart? They aren't sure how to describe the taste but Eddie moans around a stuffed full, mouthful and that's all that matters. Together they swallow down both kidneys, barely chewing at all because the heart is next and hearts are good. They take their time with it, cutting it out and growling happily when more blood spurts wildly, delicious. 

They spear the heart on the tips of their fingers, lapping up the drip-dropping blood, smearing it on their teeth. Eddie thinks about how much toothpaste and mouthwash this will take to clean but it's a barely formed thought, nothing real. He's looking at the still pulsing heart with the same hunger as Venom, **_their_ ** hunger. This heart is just a tender bit of meat good for eating, a snack. 

Their fangs slide into the heart, biting off a hunk, and they moan around it, sucking on it. Right now Venom is doing more than letting Eddie’s delicate digestive system process the raw meat, they’re letting him taste what they taste, feel what they feel. They're giving him the near euphoric rush of a good meal, the sweetness of soft tissue melting on their tongue, the pleasure of rust rich blood and plaque free arteries. Hearts are wonderful, full of tough muscle and soft fat, and the next bite is chewy. 

They munch it, grind it to a paste and let it slip down their throat, rumbling with ecstasy as it goes. They’re already stripping the meat for nutrients, breaking it down and absorbing it, and taking another bite. Bite-bite and the heart is gone but they lick the blood off their fingers, tongue slipping around each, leaving their hands covered in spit, before they move onto the main course.

They shove away from the bed, kneel beside it and snatch up the head that rolled off. They hold it up to their face, taking in the fallen open lips and barely parted eyes, the sag of cheeks and ruffled hair. Death becomes him.

They press their lips to Jackson’s forehead, feeling the give of still warm skin, and their tongue hangs out of their mouth, drool dripping in anticipation. Two minutes. Their jaw unhinges, and more fangs sprout from their gum, preparation. They take a second to appreciate the nearly full feeling in their belly then they open wide and bite down hard. The crack and crunch of bone is decadent, the give of it under their teeth has them groaning in delight, and they don't even care about the chips and fragments getting stuck in between their teeth. 

A fresh gush of blood spills into their mouth, washes out the taste of everything bad and unsavoury. They bite again, crunching up skull and swallowing it down, they need the calcium for their own bones after all. Then, then the brain, laying there for them, presented so prettily.

They scoop out pieces with their fingers, watching the pink-red junks cling to their writhing black skin, then suck it all down. Brains are so soft, melts in their mouth, no need to chew at all. They slurp grey matter right from the skull, tongue slinking down into the bone bowl, curling around chunks and dragging them down-down into their maw.

Hearts are savoury, kidneys are tart, livers are juicy but brains, brains are soft and creamy and rich. Eddie thinks gamey, animalistic, but Venom thinks of alien creatures and their soft innards, cracking open gestating eggs and slurping up the insides. On other worlds, this would be a delicacy, something hard to come by, but here brains are ripe for the eating.

This one is gone all too soon, only the aftertaste left lingering on their tongue and pieces smeared on their lips. Eddie licks those up, breathing hard from the pleasure thrumming in their veins, and smiles loose and easy as they get to their feet. There's still the rest of the head and they consider eating it, but don’t, security should have some fun with it too. They do lick the inside clean though and wipe away the spit with a finger, just in case.

The head gets tossed with the rest of the viscera on the bed, blood soaked sheets, organs spilling free, it's something out of a horror movie. Low budget or high, they can't decide, but there's something artistic about the clean, minimalist bedroom and the carcass in the middle of it. They should try their hand at interior design. 

They have half a minute to leave now, but they’re not hurried. They throw the hollowed-out head back on the bed and suck the last bits of blood from their fingers. Eddie thinks there might be a kitchen somewhere, a place to get some water to wash away the fiddly bone fragments stuck in their teeth. Venom doesn’t mind that, they got their meal and Eddie’s satisfied too.

Things are much easier when they can share experiences between each other. They wrench open the fancy fridge and find bottles of vodka instead of water, expensive vodka Eddie points out, and they grab that instead. Two bottles from the stack and twist off a cap as they wander through the rooms.

They can’t get drunk, not anymore, but the taste is nice. Compared to the cheap beer Eddie bought when he had nothing, the vodka is liquid gold. They drink half the bottle before they decide it’s time to go, make a beeline back to the piano and wipe any prints they might have left, and close it. There are no other prints to worry about because klyntar mass has no identifying marks humans would be able to pick up on.

They tuck the unopened bottle under their arm as they size up the window, Eddie still has a lingering fear of heights, of falling. Venom is working on getting rid of it, they will always catch their Eddie, always. There is no fall too high or long, they are strong, and strongest with Eddie.

“I know,” Eddie says, throwing his head back to drink the rest of the bottle. They can hear security coming, just one person, coming to check on the door alarm. Eddie weighs the empty bottle in their hand, good thick glass, and flings it at the window.

The bottle breaks, the window breaks, and they watch the pieces fall away. Glittering as they catch the light pollution, so pretty. Venom can hear the pieces shatter again when they hit the ground far-far down and pulls their lips into a smirk.

“After us, Eddie,” they tease as they take over, covering their perfect host in their bulky mass as they leap through the hole. Security never catches so much as a glimpse of them.

* * *

There are scars littered across their body that Venom likes to trace, go over and over, learn. Eddie had a life before them, thirty of these human years, and had packed a lot into those pitiful few years. He had a family with a sister who played piano, he went to an okay college to study journalism, he got a reporting job right out the gate then he fucked up. Eddie does not think about the Sin Eater Scandal but the words are there, in his mind, and Venom is there too, they can’t help seeing it.

Sin Eater, Emil Gregg, discredited, fired; the words are all there, jumbled together and overlapping each other. A mistake, Eddie made a mistake and couldn’t fix it, so he ran away. Coming to San Francisco was for Eddie, and Annie, she was part of the reason he chose this place.

Eddie likes investigative journalism, the rush of chasing down leads and finding out the truth, he likes helping people with his exposés. Carlton Drake was a mistake, Eddie knew it at the time, but he still carried through, still let himself rush right in and ruin his own life again. He’s self-destructive in a way Venom’s never seen before and they’re braced for the next meltdown, they’ll protect him from it.

According to the internet, Eddie Brock has had a more eventful life than most, and the internet has a lot to say. People online call Eddie a washed-up fuck, that he should’ve stayed gone even if he was _right_ about Drake. Others think he’s doing a good thing, focusing on the topics no one else will even if he is a corporate shill. Some just want to fuck him.

Those are usually the people that catalogue every bit of Eddie’s life, searching through his social media, tracking him across states and doing their best to find out who he is. They know about his sister, Mary, but not where she is now, they know about his father, but Carl Brock is a hard man to find. They have pictures of Annie, some of them love her, some of them hate her, they think she should have stayed with Eddie or fought back against Drake.

Some of the people don’t even care about **_Eddie_** , only his body. His face is handsome, attractive, and his eyes are such a nice, unnameable colour. They like his muscles and how he looks on his motorcycle, in his black leather jacket. They _love_ his tattoos. There are entire accounts dedicated to the meanings behind Eddie’s tattoos, Venom knows a lot of them don’t have a meaning. The wolf, the stars, the generic design winding across his shoulder blades, those are for the look of things, the aesthetic, but there are a few that _do_ mean something.

The sleeve. The individual designs don’t hold much value but it’s more the purpose, they think. The ink there is blocky and bold, meant to cover up the jagged scars just underneath, the place where bone ripped through the skin in a bad break. That accident isn’t something Eddie thinks about often but he touches the scar regularly. Fingers smoothing over it, tracing it, a mouth being wiped against it, it’s a coping mechanism almost. A familiar sensory experience.

A few more scars litter his stomach, where his appendix got removed, and later his gallbladder. Both of those are neat and clinical, places where sharp scalpels cut into the meat with precise, careful motions. There’s no trauma around those scars, no lancing pain, no gut twisting sickness, so there are no tattoos covering them up. When Venom skirts along them, Eddie huffs a laugh and bats them away, so of course Venom does it often.

The internet knows about the scar under the tattoos and they have blurry, zoomed in pictures of the surgical scars, but no one, not anyone, knows about the ragged line of tissue slashing through their spine and sternum. They don’t know the shape and feel of it under clothes or pressed against bedsheets, they don’t feel the stretch and pull of it when Eddie gets out of bed or when Venom bounds up a building. They **_don’t_** , but Venom does.

They tried healing the scar as perfectly as the breaks and snaps from the motorcycle crash but there wasn’t enough time. Only time enough to seal the skin back together and knit the slashed organs so they could keep fighting. They thought they would have the time later, after the fight, if they survived, but they were wrong.

After the fight they were weak, too weak to move, too weak to help Eddie fight his way back to the shore. For days afterwards, they were too weak to do anything but rest in Eddie’s lower intestine and absorb nutrients. Days of sluggishly extracting what they needed and resting, listening to Eddie get his life back on track, talking to Anne, talking to the authorities, talking to Dan.

Eddie needed bandages, medication, creams and wraps for the barely healed skin, pain pills for his cracked ribs. They sat by, weak, while their Eddie suffered through human pain, not knowing they were still there. By the time they were strong again, there was no healing over the scar, it had already formed, front and back where their host got ran through.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Eddie mumbles batting at his chest as Venom dips back under the skin and warps around his ribs. They didn’t realise he was awake, his breathing is still sleep slow and his thoughts are dream muddled. The torn edges of a dream are still floating around in his head, something with running, and falling, and water, it’s too vague for them to understand.

“Ven, what were you doing?” Eddie asks as his thoughts sharpen and the dream floats away. Venom squirms, sinking deeper into their host’s bones, hiding. A better klyntar wouldn’t hide, a better klyntar wouldn’t have let their perfect host be harmed, scars were weaknesses.

Klyntar didn’t like taking permanent hosts, even perfect ones, but they never let their hosts show weakness, it was a poor reflection on them. Eddie’s scarred chest is a physical, lasting proof that no matter how far they run, or what they do, they will always be a loser. Finally find a perfect host and they let him be hurt, pathetic.

“Hungry,” they lie, seeping through Eddie’s pours and bobbing in front his face. Through Eddie’s eyes, they’re something incredible, slick black and powerful. They like how they look through Eddie’s eyes. They are not a loser.

“No you’re not,” Eddie sighs, sitting up and reaching for the construct, for Venom. They willingly go, leaning into the touch and resting against their Eddie’s shoulder. His heart is beating strong and healthy, slow because he’s resting, but perfectly fine. For once there aren’t any extra hormones flooding his brain and no other thoughts flittering by; no work, no Anne, no Life Foundation, only Venom.

Nice to be thought of, not so many hosts would. Hosts called them parasite, monster, refused to think about symbiosis, about even talking. Venom doesn’t know why they’re different, why they want a meaningful bonding, but they do and always have. Being rejected by hosts hurt, when Eddie rejected them hurt, but now they have him again and it should not hurt.

“You’re Venom, and I’m yours, right?” Eddie parrots and the smile is in his voice, behind his teeth. Venom takes care of Eddie, lets him do what other humans cannot, protects him from bullets and knives and people who would hurt them. They absorb the cholesterol in the brains they eat so it cannot reach Eddie’s delicate system. They make him eat and make him sleep and make him feel good by helping people.

This is their Eddie and they will keep him healthy, even if he is a pussy.

“ _We_ are Venom,” they insist, pressing into the touch, seeping through fingers and brushing against a stubbly cheek. Their human, their perfect Eddie. Klyntar do not bond longer than they need, they don’t learn more than is beneficial to them. Riot would have used Eddie to get back to the others, Agony would have drained him dead, Phage would have lobotomised him for the body.

Venom will not, cannot. They enjoy their Eddie too much, want to have him forever.

“Yeah, _we’re_ Venom,” Eddie corrects himself, stroking Venom’s mass against his cheek. Happy and content to do it, to have it, to be it. Eddie is happy to be Venom and Venom is happy to be with Eddie. 

**Author's Note:**

> The cannibalism scene is inspired by [this post](http://rampancys.tumblr.com/post/179162646732/eddie-and-venoms-version-of-a-fancy-date-is). If you liked this, swing by my tumblr ([darkeecofreak](http://darkeecofreak.tumblr.com/)) where I am actively dying over this movie. I've waited years for this and I am Living.


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